


Circles

by GatesVengeance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatesVengeance/pseuds/GatesVengeance
Summary: Oliver and Marcus always seemed to move in circles around each other. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again.
Relationships: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 168





	Circles

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story other than the ones I have created myself. The characters are property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fiction and I make no profit from this.
> 
> This is my first foray in Harry Potter fanfic for a while, I've previously written in other fandoms. Hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Circles

Oliver wasn't paying any attention to whatever Michelson was babbling onto him about, his attention was drawn elsewhere. To something, or rather, to someone who was currently chatting animatedly with his captain, O'Donovan. He lifted his glass of firewhiskey up to his lips and took a long sip, his brown eyes locked on the other man across the room, silently willing him to look up but he would not.

"Uh, Wood?" He heard the voice of his teammate but still didn't stop staring until he saw the fingers clicking a few times in front of his face. "Oliver." Michelson snapped, which finally got him to look up. "Why don't you just go and talk to him?"

Oliver's eyes instantly flicked away from his target to look at his teammate, Jacob Michelson. The other man was almost a head taller than him and was broader and wider, making him the perfect build to be one of the team’s Beaters. "We didn't really get on in school."

"And?" Jacob snapped. "You've been out of school nearly ten years, maybe you could grow up?"

Oliver let out a short, bark like laugh. "That's a bit harsh."

"Is it?" Jacob folded his strong arms across his broad chest and stretched up to his full height. "You've been ignoring me for the last ten minutes."

"Nah." Oliver said with a slight grin.

“I’m getting another drink.” Jacob rolled his eyes and drained the last of his glass. “And then I'm going to find someone else who will listen when I'm talking to them."

Oliver watched his friend and teammate walk away and back to the bar, leaving him leaning against his stool and very much alone. He lifted the glass up to his lips and took another sip, his eyes scanning the rest of the room, making a point to not look at a certain someone. His want to glance over was almost too much to resist.

He was here as a preseason get together with the rest of his Quidditch team, Puddlemere United. They'd tried to rent out one of the local pubs for the evening but were unsuccessful, settling instead for the bar area inside their stadium. The area was decked out in the team’s colours with a large banner of their team logo right in the middle of the room. There was two long tables set up on the furthest side of the room against the wall covered with food while at least three bartenders milled around behind the long wooden bar, politely waiting for the players to refill their glasses.

At least it was private and there was no way that any members of the press could gain access to the secluded area, which was never a bad thing, Oliver mused, given his recent experience with the tabloid pages inside Witch Weekly.

This whole night was his captain’s Roy O’Donovan’s idea to begin with. At the end of last season, they'd let go of probably their best chaser, Lydia McLeod, to join the Holyhead Harpies which left a huge gap in their team that wasn't going to be filled easily. Oliver had let out an audible groan when he'd heard who they'd signed to replace Lydia.

Marcus Flint had been signed to Puddlemere United on a record transfer fee from the Montrose Magpies. Tonight was all about the rest of the team getting to know who would be their new Chaser. It was such a Roy idea to do this, Oliver thought bitterly while taking another sip from his almost empty glass, ensuring that their newest high profile signing got on well with the team, despite the fact that he hadn't bothered to do it for anyone else in such a manner. He could see the rest of his team fawning over their newest player, desperately trying to get his attention.

Oliver of course needed no introduction to Flint. He'd known the other man since he was 12 years old, encountering him first out on the Qudditch pitch in his first game, the blatant hatred and animosity clear from the moment they met. The pair had a heated rivalry that lasted until they had both finished school and left Hogwarts, embarking on their almost identical career paths.

He had kept track of how his rival was going during his playing career, always scanning the weekly Quidditch magazine he had delivered for the other man’s name. He couldn’t help it that he still felt that he had to do better than the Slytherin. He felt an overwhelming sense of smugness when he was called up to play in the first grade team one game before Flint. He had to swallow down the bitterness when he found out they’d been called up to play for England at the same time.

Their own playing careers were vastly different. After he’d left school, Oliver had stayed at Puddlemere except for one season where he was loaned to the Wasps. He liked the stability of playing for the same team, the loyalty that accompanied it. Marcus, however, was very different. His former rival had played for nearly every team in the league, seemingly moving around every two years with no regard for loyalty of the sort. Oliver snorted into his drink; it was all the money he was consistently offered he supposed.

Something else he’d kept track of over the years was Flint himself. It was hard not to notice the other man plastered all over the covers of Witch Weekly and the other various gossip magazines. Every week there was a new photo of Flint, sometimes with a girl, sometimes two girls but usually with the same group of guys he spent his spare time at school with. His brown eyes instantly recognizing the familiar faces of Higgs, Warrington, Montague and Pucey plastered across the pages, the same stupid grins on their faces.

He also couldn’t help but notice just how much Flint had changed since school. The other man had seemingly grown into his features. The other man certainly wasn’t someone Oliver would have called good looking back when they were teenagers, the Slytherin often the butt of everyone’s jokes, but now he had a rugged, roguish charm to him. It certainly helped that he’d had something done to his teeth, Oliver thought mildly as he finished the last of his drink. And the stupid way he did his hair, gelled meticulously with not a single strand out of place and swept slightly to one side, matching with his closely shaved head.

Oliver had dismissed the wild notion in the back of his mind that he was harbouring some sort of crush on the slightly older man. And yet he couldn’t stop scanning every news article about him, bitterly wishing that it was him. Their teams had versed on numerous occasions throughout the years but they had far less to do with each other than when they were in school as neither were captains of their respective teams.

And yet he still couldn’t help the way that his heart seemed to thunder in chest when the Chaser would approach the goals, his mind flashing back to school. Flint still had that cocky sneer on his lips each time he lined up and readied himself to take the shot at goal. Oliver swore on the few times Flint had been able to score past him that the slightly older man would wink at him.

He glanced across the room one last time, more of his team mates gathered around their newest signing, laughing no doubt laughing sycophantically to whatever Flint was saying. He rolled his eyes. He knew he was being petty deliberately ignoring the other man but he really didn’t care. He could coexist with the other man for the sake of the team but that was as far as he needed to go. He didn’t need to be friends with him.

He lifted himself up from his spot on the stool and made his way over to the bar. He placed the empty glass in front of the bartender. “Another firewhiskey. Thanks.” He mumbled.

A few moments later he saw the glass being placed back in front of him. He forced himself a small smile before lifting the glass to his lips. He was about to turn when he felt a hand clamp down on his wrist, keeping him there. He let out a breath and lifted his gaze, his brown eyes locking with those of his former rival. “Flint.” He breathed out.

Flint’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Wood.” He let go of Oliver’s wrist, his gaze not faltering. “You know I’ve been waiting for you to come and say hello all night.”

Oliver suddenly became aware of the height difference and the build difference between them. Quidditch had been good to Flint. He let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t think we needed an introduction, Flint.”

“You can call me Marcus.” Flint responded. “That’s what the rest of our teammates are calling me.”

“They don’t really know you like I do.” Oliver responded. He could feel the heated glares of the rest of his teammates as they stood so very close to each other.

Flint laughed. “Still a Gryffindork I see. Can’t trust a Slytherin.”

“Whatever.” Oliver rolled his eyes. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a long sip. He stepped away from the other man and resumed his former seat out of the way. He slumped down onto the stool, eyes intently focused on the drink in his hands.

“Oliver.” He looked up and saw who the voice belonged to. He inwardly groaned as he saw Flint take the spare seat next to him. “You know, for someone who really didn’t want to talk to me tonight, you sure have spent a lot of tonight staring over at me.”

Oliver couldn’t help the flush that crept up his cheeks. He declined to answer, instead taking another drink from his glass.

“I always thought you were more into gingers, not brunettes.” Flint remarked, taking a sip from his own drink. “Merlin, the way you used to follow Charlie Weasley around at school was hilarious.”

Oliver felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t heard his ex’s name for many years now but it didn’t stop his heart from hammering hard in his chest. He willed himself to not show his emotions, not wanting to show the hurt from the outside. He again chose not to respond to the man sitting next to him.

“Tell me.” Flint drawled from next to him, a smirk plastered on his lips as he took a drink from his own glass. “Did you two ever hook up?”

“Uh.” Oliver started, a lump bubbling in his throat. “You could say that.”

“What? Never got past first base?” Flint smirked.

Oliver took a deep breath. “I married him, Marcus.”

Marcus choked on his drink that time for sure. “You did fucking what?” He put his glass down on the table and reached for Oliver’s left hand, examining the place where there should have been a ring. “Where’s your ring?”

“I said I married him.” Oliver snapped, ripping his hand out of his new teammates grip. “I didn’t say I was still married to him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Marcus said softly. “How long have you two been separated for?”

“We divorced two years ago after he ran off back to Romania with some guy named Ivar.” Oliver said bitterly. He glanced at the look on Marcus’s face. “I don’t need your sympathy for some guy who broke my heart.” He took another sip from his drink. “It looks like you’re not really one who settles down, judging by those tabloid photos.”

Marcus let out a laugh. “You read that crap, do you?”

Oliver shrugged. “If something catches my eye.”

“Then, tell me.” Marcus drawled. “What do you deduce about my private life from those articles?”

“That you probably like sleeping around?” Oliver responded, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, who doesn’t?” Marcus smirked back. “I’m entitled to have fun with whomever I want. Male or Female, whatever takes my mood.”

Oliver let out a laugh. “Well, duh, we can all see it from those photos.”

“But those photos probably don’t tell you that I was forced into a marriage I wanted no part of and this is my rebellion to my father.” Marcus responded, taking another sip from his drink.

“Who were you forced to marry?” Oliver asked curiously.

“Eleanor Nott.” Marcus answered with a shudder. “Her family is a part of the sacred twenty-eight so that was why we had to marry. You know, always pure.”

“I didn’t know that was such a thing.” Oliver remarked.

“Well, you wouldn’t. You’re not a part of it.” Marcus responded, ignoring the glare from the other man. “Anyway, we hated each other. We barely lasted a year married. The whole time I was sleeping with Higgs anyway and I think she was sleeping with someone else too.”

“Higgs? As in Terrence Higgs?” Oliver asked.

“What? Jealous?” Marcus grinned.

“Hardly.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “It’s shame. You’re actually an alright person to talk to, we could have been friends, you know.”

It was Marcus’s turn to roll his eyes this time. “Why can’t we? We’re on the same team now.”

Oliver took another sip from his glass. “Why did you come to Puddlemere? Other than the money of course.”

“What do you take me for?” Marcus scoffed. “I’ve got more than enough gold without having to play.”

Oliver scoffed. “Why come then? The Magpies have won the league how many times and you pick here to play?”

“Do you not want me on your precious team Oliver?” Marcus retorted.

“I didn’t say that.” Oliver said quickly, cheeks flushing. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why did you come to Puddlemere?”

“You.” Marcus answered simply, his dark eyes had locked onto Oliver’s, searching.

“What?” Oliver balked.

“I came for you.” Marcus answered.

“I don’t understand.” Oliver said quietly.

“I came to Puddlemere because of you.” Marcus spoke quietly. “I always admired your passion for this sport and the way you commanded your team. I always liked that feeling I got inside me when we’d play against each other, that tingle and the way my heartbeat only seemed to speed up when I played against you.” His brown eyes were staring directly into Oliver’s. “I wanted to see if it was the same playing with you.” He took in a breath, he could see the same feeling reflected in Oliver’s gaze. “If maybe that feeling was the same playing with you off the pitch too.”

Oliver took in a shaky breath of his own. He could feel his heart beating almost in his throat. “I’ve got to be drunk. You didn’t just say that.”

“I’d kiss you right now if the rest of the team weren’t watching.” Marcus said so quietly, Oliver was sure he’d nearly missed it. “How much longer is this thing going to go for?”

Oliver shrugged. “No idea. I wish it’d be over soon.”

“Why?” Marcus asked even though he knew the answer.

“Cause I think you’d have more fun at my place.” Oliver had said the words before he’d even realised.

Marcus took a long sip from his drink. “Tell me, Wood.” He started. “Do you like the view from the top or do you like to look up from below?”

“I don’t know, Flint.” Oliver answered. “Do you think you can handle me underneath you?”

“We’ll soon find out, won’t we?” Marcus almost growled. “Let’s get out of here.”

Oliver sculled the last of his glass and stood up, wobbling for a moment as the alcohol rushed to his head. He steadied himself on the table for a moment before he walked over towards where his captain was standing. “O’Donovan.” He said shortly, waiting for the Irishman to turn around. “I’m going to go. Thanks for putting tonight together.”

“What do you mean you’re going?!” Roy balked back. “Is Flint going with you?”

Oliver shrugged. “Yeah. We’ve got a bit more catching up to do.”

“I don’t fecking believe it!” Roy fumed as he watched his Chaser and his Keeper walk out through the doors that led into the stadium.

Oliver grabbed a hold of Flint’s arm, committing to memory the feeling of the firm muscle that was underneath the older man’s grey jumper. He chanced a glance at his new teammate and in an instant, they’d moved away from their home stadium and right into Oliver’s living room in his flat.

Marcus took a look around the neat living room. He couldn’t help the internal laugh at how neat and organized the room was, with not a single thing out of place. He should have known the Gryffindor would be a neat freak. He opened his mouth to say something only to feel a pair of hands rest of his broad shoulders.

He barely had a moment to react when he felt the soft, supple pair of lips press against his. Oliver’s lips had no right to feel this soft, he thought bitterly as his eyes slid shut and his hands found their place resting around the slightly younger man’s waist. He let his tongue snake out from between his lips and swipe at the supple lips they found, a soft murmur of a moan filling into the room as Oliver’s lips parted for his searching tongue.

His hands slipped from their position around Oliver’s waist to grab at the younger man’s pert ass. He pulled the other man’s body in tighter to his own as his tongue explored the Keeper’s mouth. He felt a moan of his own escape his lips as the taste that was Oliver assaulted his senses. He could clearly taste the firewhiskey on his tongue, that much was for sure, but there was something else that was addictive that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that was so pure. What he did know was that he couldn’t get enough.

He felt Oliver’s right hand moved up and tangle in his short, brown hair, fingers entwining in his locks as he tilted his head allowing him more access to his mouth. He could feel the younger man pushing up against him as close as he could. He could feel almost all of Oliver’s strong body against him. He let out a groan. He couldn’t wait to see what lay under the layers.

He bent slightly and let his hands slip just underneath Oliver’s ass, grabbing at his thick thighs before he lifted Oliver up off the ground. He felt Wood’s legs wrap around his hips immediately, squeezing him to keep him as close as he could. He broke the kiss for a moment, allowing his eyes to open once more. “Which way is the bedroom?”

Oliver’s eyes fluttered back open. “Down the hall to the right.”

The look in his eyes made Marcus’s cock twitch from inside his pants. It was the same heated look that Oliver often gave him when they versed each other out on the Quidditch pitch. He could almost taste the determination that was etched across Oliver’s handsome face. Oh fuck was he glad he decided to come to Puddlemere.

He leaned forward again and reattached their lips, his eyes sliding shut while he blindly navigated his way through the small flat. He felt Oliver’s hand tighten in his short hair, the thick fingers twisting around the short strands of hair, no doubt messing up the hairstyle he’d spent far too long perfecting. He let out a low groan as he felt Oliver’s tongue swiping at his bottom lip, his lips parting while his head tilted slightly allowing the younger man control for the time being.

Oliver squeezed his legs tighter around the muscular form of the Chaser, his other hand grabbing shamelessly at Marcus’s bicep. He let out a light moan of his own. The older man had certainly filled out since school, the outcome of his rigorous training sessions with his various teams over the years showing in his built physique.

He pushed his tongue into Marcus’s mouth, moaning lightly again at the taste of the other man. He could taste the alcohol the Chaser had been consuming all night that mingled with nicotine, a bolt of arousal rolling through Oliver as the taste overwhelmed him. He could feel the chemistry between them, his cock already coming to life in his pants.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this excited, since he’d felt like this. Not since Charlie.

He broke the kiss abruptly, his heart hammering in his chest, his stomach swirling uncomfortably. He allowed his eyes to open slowly and looked up slightly into the dark eyes of Marcus. He took in the sight of his former Quidditch rival, dark eyes wide, a look of concern etched upon his face.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus’s voice was quiet, barely audible over the sound of Oliver’s heart pounding in his chest.

“It’s, uh, been a while since I’ve done this.” Oliver answered quietly. He felt the flush go up his cheeks from the intense look of the other man. “Not since-“he couldn’t finish the sentence even if he tried.

“I’ll make you forget him.” Marcus responded, leaning forward and reattaching their lips back together as they continued navigating their way through Oliver’s flat.

He let one eye peek open to see where they were, delighted that he could finally see the bed. He moved forward and allowed Oliver to drop onto the bed first with a soft groan, their kiss not breaking as Marcus repositioned himself on the bed. He moved one hand reluctantly away from Oliver’s ass to rest on the side of the bed, holding himself up. He pushed down with his hips, their concealed cocks pushing against each other.

“Ah, fuck.” Oliver allowed his head to fall back against the pillows, letting out a loud moan as he pushed his hips back up against the older man’s. “Fuck, Flint.” He groaned. It had been too long since he’d felt like this, far too long.

Marcus leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of Oliver’s mouth, his lips trailing up to Oliver’s ear, all the while not stopping the way that their clothed cocks rutted against each other. He tugged the ear lobe into his ear, biting slightly. “I told you to call me Marcus.”

Oliver’s hand grabbed impossibly tighter at the firm bicep in his grip. He pushed his hips up, craving more friction. “Marcus.” He breathed out, eyed fluttering open to see the hulking form of the other man above him. His hand reluctantly moved away from the bicep to start to tug at the bottom of the other man’s jumper. “Let me see what you’ve got underneath.”

Marcus growled, pressing their lips firmly back together while Oliver fumbled with pulling his jumper up and over his head. Their kiss broke only for a moment as his article of clothing was thrown elsewhere in the room. He let out a groan, pushing their bodies impossibly closer together as he felt Oliver’s hands untuck his pristine white button up shirt, the rough fingers sneaking under the material to gently caress the soft skin underneath while the other hand unbuttoned his shirt.

He knew he could have been gentler in the way that he removed Oliver’s clothes. He knew he definitely could have taken the younger man’s dark blue shirt off without ripping it in half but he didn’t care. He could feel the way his cock was starting to throb already in his pants as he pulled off Oliver’s pants, entangling their bodies for the briefest moments to throw the Keeper’s pants across the room.

He felt the coolness of the air brush against him as he slid off the bed to undo and remove his own pants, allowing them to drop carelessly on the floor. He looked over at the bed; Oliver lay there almost panting, his usually immaculate hair sticking up at odd angles while his kiss swollen lips stayed slightly parted. He watched the younger man reach a hand out to lazily tug at his cock while Marcus looked over at him.

He found it impossible to not replicate the action, his right hand wrapping around his cock slowly, jerking his own thick dick while he made his way over to the bed. He had barely made it to the bed when he watched Oliver crawl over to him and smack his hand away, replacing it with his own. Oliver looked up at him, silently asking permission for what he was about to.

Marcus could only groan loudly as he felt Oliver’s lips wrap around his cock head, sucking hard once before pushing his mouth all the way down. Marcus let out a moan that time, hand reaching up to weave through the chestnut brown hair, holding him steady. “Oliver.”

Oliver chanced a glance up at the older man. He could see Marcus’s eyes had slid shut, his mouth parted slightly as he worked his mouth up and down the other man’s thick, throbbing length. He pushed his mouth as far down as he could, swallowing nearly the whole of Marcus’s cock, the long, fat cock pressing at the back of his throat as he gave it a hard suck.

He heard the sound of appreciation coming from the other man, the hand in his hair tightening ever so slightly as he continued his movements. He bobbed his mouth down quickly, savouring the taste of the Chaser’s cock as he pulled back up. Quick down, slow up. He let out a moan of his own, his cock pulsing from between his legs. Man, did he miss sucking dick.

He repeated his movements a few more times before being abruptly pulled off of the other man’s dick and being unceremoniously pushed backwards onto the bed. He opened his mouth to speak only to have Marcus’s lips pressed back onto his. He allowed his hand to lift up and tangle in the dark hair, trying in vain to pull their lips closer, trying to get more and more of that addictive taste.

He pulled back from the kiss when he felt a slick, wet digit push into his entrance. He didn’t know when Marcus had had time to lube his finger up but found he didn’t much care when he felt the calloused finger push in and out of his entrance. He used his other hand to grip at the older man’s bicep, nails biting into tanned skin, willing that hand to keep moving. “Marcus.”

Marcus grinned as he looked down at the sight below him. He’d barely pushed a finger inside of the tight heat and Oliver was already panting. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of Oliver’s neck while he slowly added another finger inside. He felt the slightly smaller man tense beneath him as he got used to the sensation and it only made his cock pulse from between his legs. He couldn’t wait to get inside of that tight heat.

He pressed a few rough kisses to the column of Oliver’s neck, careful not to leave any marks while his fingers rocked in and out of the heat, stretching and curling, trying to explore every inch of that glorious place. He reluctantly pulled the two fingers out to add in the third, his stomach doing a back flip at the sound that escaped from Oliver’s throat. He lifted his lips and pressed them hard against the Scotsman while his fingers continued rocking in and out, searching for that spot inside of the younger man.

He was rewarded when he felt Oliver break the suction of their kiss to let out a loud moan of his name. His eyes snapped open to take in the sight below him. Oliver’s back was arched, his head thrown back into the pillow while his lips remained parted. “Fuck you are so hot.” He breathed, his breath catching in his throat as he watched Oliver’s eyes flutter back open to look at him once more.

“C’mon Marcus.” Oliver moaned out. “I’m ready.”

Marcus smirked as he readjusted his position on the bed. He slowly pulled his fingers out of the younger man, ignoring the whine that left the Keeper’s lips as he did. He reached over to the bed and grabbed the bottle of lube that he’d used to coat his fingers to coat his thick, hard cock a few times. He looked over at Oliver who was watching him intently.

He moved in between Oliver’s spread legs, his form looming over the slighter man, cock held in his right hand as his left hand lifted one of Oliver’s thick legs over his shoulder. His dark eyes never broke their contact from the younger man’s as he dipped his hips slightly and lined himself up with the younger man’s entrance. He could see the want in Oliver’s brown eyes, could see just how much the younger man wanted it and he knew the same look must have been reflected in his own orbs.

Their eye contact never faltered as Marcus pushed the thick head up against Oliver’s puckered entrance. He watched the way Oliver tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, watched the slight grimace of pain streak across his face as he pushed into the younger man. He let out a deep groan as he felt himself become fully seated inside of the other man, the tight heat engulfing his every sense as he waited for Oliver to adjust.

Oliver felt his eyes squeeze shut, blocking out everything for a moment as he got used to the feeling. He’d never felt so full that he couldn’t move. He knew his hand was digging into Marcus’s arm. He knew there would be scratch marks there in the morning but he didn’t care. He’d almost forgotten how good this all felt, how good it was to have someone fill him up like this. It felt so good it hurt. And he knew it hurt due to the length and girth of the man that was filling him up.

He opened his eyes after a moment and reconnected them with Marcus’s. He could see every inch of restraint etched across the older man’s face. He could see the way that Marcus’s muscles were tensing, waiting for him to be ready to take it. He would never have thought that Marcus Flint would have been one for patience. He smirked at that which he saw reflected in the other man. “C’mon Flint.”

Marcus let out a low groan as he started to slowly pull out before pushing back in. He ignored the pinch on his arm from the way that Oliver was grabbing at him, his eyes greedily raking in the way that the younger man looked below him. The way that the younger’s man’s ass greedily sucked him in to only to spit him out. Fuck did he feel good on Marcus’s cock, the tight suction making his balls throb.

“You can fuck me harder than that.” Oliver’s words seemed to come out of nowhere.

Marcus growled that time, that steely look of determination etched on Oliver’s face. He grabbed the younger man’s other leg and threw it over his shoulder and began to thrust in and out of the other man with reckless abandon. He thrust quickly in and pulled quickly out, his thrusts picking up in speed and ferocity each time he moved in and out. He could hear the sounds of their bodies colliding over and over again, the smack, smack, smacking echoing around them in the room.

His hands grabbed at Oliver’s thick, muscular thighs as he continued his assault, his eyes glued to the younger man’s face, committing to memory every facial expression and every sound that left his lips. He couldn’t get enough of this. He watched Oliver’s face contorting with pleasure with each thrust in, the brown eyes steadily drooping and he arched his back up, trying to get more.

Oliver couldn’t stop the steady stream of moans and groans leaving his lips as he felt their bodies colliding over and over again, each thrust colliding with his prostate. His brown eyes fluttered open to look up at the older man. Marcus’s jaw was set, his hands grabbing at his thighs almost painfully while his hips moved in and out of him. His eyes dragged across Marcus’s muscular body, abdomen clearly defined and contracting with each thrust in. He couldn’t stop looking at the other man, their sex becoming more rhythmic with each thrust in.

He was trying hard to focus on the rhythm but he found he couldn’t. There was too much going on. The smack, smack, smacking growing louder with each thrust in, accompanied by his own moans of pleasure. He could feel the backflips in his stomach, the coil that was buried deep in his stomach undoing with each thrust in. His hand reached down to grab at his leaking cock, roughly jerking it as best he could in time with Marcus’s thrusts.

He knew he couldn’t last much longer if he tried. He looked up at the older man. “Kiss me.”

Marcus obliged at once. Oliver’s legs stayed across his shoulders as he moved forward and reconnected their lips. Their kiss was definitely not romantic, tongues and teeth clashing in their clumsy open mouths. But it didn’t matter. He could feel Oliver’s hand pumping away on his cock as their bodies continued connecting over and over again. It was so hot, their foreheads pressed against each other as they chased their orgasms.

Oliver let go first, his entire body tensing as his head fell back against the pillows, a loud groan of Marcus’s name repeated like a mantra on his lips. His hand didn’t stop working his cock until he was sure there was nothing left to give, his chest heaving while he felt Marcus still pound into him.

Marcus couldn’t hold on even if he tried the tightness of Oliver’s ass squeezing him and milking him for all that he was worth. He knew he should have asked if he could cum inside but he it didn’t matter. He released into the tight heat with a deep groan of the younger man’s name.

He rocked his hips in and out a few times more, riding out the last of his orgasm before he pulled out and rolled over, lying flat on the bed. He allowed his eyes to slide shut for a moment while he regained control of his breathing. He felt the bed shift next to him and opened his brown orbs to see Oliver looking at him. “What?”

“Why’d you wait so long to come to Puddlemere?” Oliver grinned while reaching out a hand to trace his fingers across Marcus’s toned abdomen and chest.

Marcus laughed, his arm wrapping around Oliver’s shoulders. “If I would have known you were this interested, I’d have fucked you in school.”

“Nah.” Oliver grinned. “You wouldn’t have been nearly as hot.”

“Whatever, Wood.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

Oliver allowed a smile to grace his handsome features. If someone would have told him twenty four hours ago that this would have happened, he would have laughed them out of the room. He supposed that this must have been inevitable to happen, both men dancing in circles around each other since school, their lives and careers being eerily similar in many regards. He supposed that if he’d actually bothered to get to know the other man that this could have happened well before anything else, well before all the heartbreak. Life didn’t always go that way, he thought bitterly.

“What are you thinking about?” Marcus asked him, his voice cutting through the silence.

Oliver paused for a moment, wondering whether he should say what’s on his mind. A grin crossed his face. “I was just wondering-“he started as he moved to straddle the older man. “-how quickly I can get you to cum again tonight.”

Marcus’s hands gripped onto the younger man’s hips, a hungry look in his eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

Oliver grinned, hungrily pressing their lips together. He hoped this competitiveness never changed between them.

END


End file.
